


Ectothermy

by Silverbreeze424



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22264099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverbreeze424/pseuds/Silverbreeze424
Summary: A nightmare drives Crowley to Aziraphale’s bookshop, regardless of the weather.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 240





	Ectothermy

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be purely about Crowley being cold-blooded and then suddenly it wasn’t about that at all. Oh well!

Angels, and by that rule demons as well, didn’t dream in a traditional sense. Instead, when they spend time asleep, their minds were often plagued with memories. Sometimes it was just sensations, or sounds, or emotions, twisted from reality through the haze of memory and unconscious. 

Crowley found himself lost in one such memory at the moment. Heat was scorching at his skin, so painfully hot it was almost freezing. His eyes stung from smoke and tears and his lungs were heaving quick, panicked breaths. Panic was just a single word for the myriad of emotions he was feeling, and he couldn’t quite conjure up enough to fully express the soul-crushing anguish. It was loneliness and loss and nostalgia and unparalleled fear, unlike anything Crowley had experienced in all 6000 years he’d been on this Earth. 

Because Aziraphale’s bookshop was burning, and the angel himself was nowhere to be seen. 

When Crowley woke, the physical sensations faded, but the anguish did not, and he barely had the piece of mind to miracle up some clothes before sprinting out of his apartment and towards Azirphale’s bookstore.

It didn’t snow often in London, but of course it was snowing today, because that was just how Crowley’s day was going. For a human, pumped up on fear and adrenaline and the natural warmth of movement, it wouldn’t be that bad, but for Crowley, still more reptile than human, despite what his appearance might suggest, it was a nightmare, a war between his body trying to shut down in the cold and sheer willpower. 

He eventually reached the door of Azirphale’s book shop, miracled the door open, and collapsed in the entryway.

oOo

Aziraphale’s first reaction to seeing his door open was, naturally, concern, because he assumed someone had just sauntered in to his shop like they owned the place and- well. Actually, when he put it like that, his fears abated a bit. It was probably just Crowley, though the lad usually had the decency to close the door behind him, even if he was a demon. Well, any which way Aziraphale could certainly handle himself, so he swung the parted door the rest of the way open. 

Or, at the very least, he tried to, but the door bumped against something as he tried to open it.

The angel peered in through the opening and-

“Oh. Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear,” Aziraphale said hurriedly, squeezing through the door and going to kneel next to the large serpent in his entry.

He reached out to touch him, and instantly flinched away- his scales were cold as ice. 

“Oh, you poor fellow. What were you doing out?” Aziraphale tutted, gathering the coils of snake into his arms and laying him down next to a miraculously lit fireplace. He didn’t know a lot about snakes, much less demonic serpents, and was therefore at a bit of a loss as to what to do. 

Unsure of what else to do, Aziraphale sat down beside the serpent, and pulled his head and some of his coils into his lap. Angels, or perhaps just Aziraphale, tended to run warm, after all. Between Aziraphale’s body heat and the warmth of the fire, the demon would be better in no time. 

He grabbed a blanket to wrap around his shoulders and drape over Crowley’s form, miracled a book into his hands, and settled down for a wait.

oOo

Crowley woke up slowly. He was warm, he was wrapped around something soft and sweet-smelling, and he didn’t really want to get up at all.

However reluctantly, he eventually focused his eyes and. Oh. Oh Go- Sa- Somebody, it was fire and the world around him smelled like ash and Aziraphale. 

The nightmare came back to him at stunning speed, and he thrashed about, trying to regain his bearings as he resumed his human form. His newly-regained arms fell around something soft and familiar and-

“Aziraphale!” Crowley hissed, even as he continued to shake from barely contained sobs.

“Ah, yes?” A somewhat baffled, but mostly concerned Aziraphale answered as he rested his hands on Crowley’s hips.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley repeated, his voice barely above a desperate croak, and this time he could hold back the tears. With a loud sob, he tightened his arms around the angel and buried his face in his shoulder.

“Oh, my dear boy…” Aziraphale muttered, rubbing soothing circles along the demon’s heaving back. Without even thinking, he unfurled his wings and wrapped them around the pair, forming a heavenly white barrier around them. Crowley merely shook in his hold, and Aziraphale could almost hear his teeth creaking as he ground them together in an effort to not make a noise- the demon didn’t want this to be any more humiliating than it already was.

“Hush, my dear. Let it out. It’s alright,” the angel whispered, placing a gentle kiss against his temple and instantly hoping Crowley hadn’t noticed. 

Apparently he hadn’t, and he let out an audible sob. 

“Yes, that’s it. You needn’t hold back. Let it out,” Aziraphale encouraged, and he held the demon tighter as he screamed into his shoulder.

After awhile, the sobs dissolved into sniffles, and then silence, though Crowley didn’t move even after he had apparently stopped crying.

“Crowley, dear? Could you perhaps get up?” Aziraphale asked, moving his hands from the demon’s hips to his shoulders, not pushing, just suggesting.

The demon muttered something incomprehensible into his shoulder.

“Excuse me?” Aziraphale said fondly.

“It’sss embarasssing,” Crowley hissed, still mumbling but at least not talking directly into the angel’s shoulder anymore. “Don’t want you to see my faccce.”

“Just get up, dear boy, I promise I’ll leave yo-“

“No!” Crowley hissed, his sharp nails clinging to the back of Aziraphale’s shirt, dangerously close to piercing the fabric. 

“Alright, alright,” Aziraphale assured, resuming his rubbing movements. “I was just going to give you a moment to clean yourself up while I make some tea, but if you’d rather accompany me, that’s perfectly fine as well.” 

Crowley nodded into his shoulder, and the next thing Aziraphale knew, he was holding a snake instead of a man-shaped demon. Crowley curled himself around Aziraphale’s shoulders like a particularly heavy scarf and nestled his head next to the angel’s pulse point.

“Figured thisss would be easssier.” Crowley hissed into his neck, and Aziraphale squirmed at the sensation of the snakey tongue against his neck, trying to suppress a giggle. 

Crowley flicked out his tongue once again, and Aziraphale couldn’t be sure as to whether the demon was actually scenting the air or just trying to tickle Aziraphale.

“You’re probably right,” Aziraphale agreed, a hint of his suppressed giggle creeping into his voice. He patted the coils on his chest fondly and stood up, heading for the kitchen. 

He absently ran through the process of making tea as his thoughts drifted. What in the world could have Crowley so panicked? Everything should be fine now, better than fine, the best it’s ever been! They had stopped the Apocalypse, escaped Heaven and Hell’s control, and were free to do whatever they wanted, so why-

The tea kettle shrilled, breaking Aziraphale out of his thoughts before he could reach a conclusion. Crowley stiffened around his neck at the sound, dangerously close to choking, before settling back down and glaring at the tea kettle. Aziraphale carefully removed it from the stove, poured two cups of hot water, and fitted them both with matching bags of chamomile tea- it seemed like they both could use a bit of calming.

Cups in hand, Aziraphale returned to the parlor, allowing Crowley to slither off his shoulders, onto his chair, and resume his humanoid shape. Aziraphale could see a glimpse of the deep red beneath and within Crowley’s serpentine eyes before the demon miracled up a pair of sunglasses to cover them back up.

“Thanksss, angel,” Crowley hissed was he took the mug and held it gently in his hands. The demon was clearly aiming for nonchalant, but the hiss still remaining in his voice gave him away.

“My dear boy… I hate to ask, but what is it that had you so upset? And why were you out in such abysmal weather? You know it doesn’t agree with you,” Aziraphale questioned gently, placing his mug on the table.

“‘sss nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Crowley said nervously, taking a sip to avoid elaborating any further.

“It’s clearly not nothing!” Aziraphale protested.

“It’sss ssstupid, then,” the demon tried   
stubbornly, setting his tea down with such force it sloshed onto the table. Neither of them noticed.

“It’s not stupid if it upset you! It’s important, and I’d like to know what it is so I can help!”

“You can’t help! It’sss sssomething I jussst have to deal with! Fix!” Crowley hissed, getting to his feet so he could pace.

“You don’t have to fix it alone! We’re on our own side, remember!”

“Of courssse I remember I jussst! Aaaaaughh!” Crowley yelled, flopping back onto the chair so he could scream into the cushions. “It isss ssstupid but I’m afraid of fire, ok!?”

Aziraphale puzzled over this. “Since when?” He questioned. He could think of countless times Crowley had been around fire and hardly seemed to care. Had he just not picked up on his friend’s fear, perhaps?

“Sssince the Not-pocalyse. Sssince your bookshop…” Crowley swallowed thickly, moving from his splayed out position to curl up in on himself.

“Then… then it’s not really the fire, is it?” Aziraphale asked solemnly.

“No. Not really.” Crowley agreed, his voice muffled as he buried his face in his knees.

“Oh my dear… I’m so terribly sorry. I didn’t realize-“

“It’sss fine. I didn’t want you to.”

“Still, I should have realized something was the matter. I should have known that Adam fixing the bookshop was only a surface level repair.” Aziraphale sighed. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had found your apartment in a similar state… not knowing if I’d ever get you back…”

“Get me-“ Crowley echoed, confused, before something clicked in his head. “Aziraphale, I didn’t think you were discorporated! I-I thought it was-“ the words got caught in his throat.

“You… you thought it was hellfire!” Aziraphale realized, and he finally stood up as well, taking Crowley by the shoulder and stilling his pacing.

“Mm.” 

“You thought I was gone. Well and truly gone.”

“Mm.”

“Oh. Oh my poor dear, I’m so very sorry.” Aziraphale said, moving one hand from the demon’s shoulder to his face. Crowley leaned in to the touch, and Aziraphale removes his glasses so he could stare into those golden eyes of his. The sclera was still bloodshot, and his whole face ruddy from the tears.

“I had no idea… that must have been terrible.” Aziraphale said, and pulled Crowley into another hug.

“You better stop before I start crying again,” Crowley said, trying for joking and landing firmly in pathetic. Aziraphale didn’t mind, and only hugged the demon closer.

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley was supposed to confess at some point, but that didn’t happen either. Sometimes fics really take on a life of their own, I guess!
> 
> Also, the next good omens fic I have planned is Warlock-centric! If it’s not out by the time you read this (and it probably won’t be) feel free to gently kick me to work on it.


End file.
